Moving On
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Sam's ready to move on – or is she?


Moving On

By Sheryl Nantus

Synopsis: Sam's ready to move on -or is she?  
Rating: G

Spoilers: Stargate Atlantis Season Opener - d'oh!

The skirt is tight; too tight. I can see Jack ogling me as I walk past him in the living room, a wide grin on his face. Probably the cake from last night. Bastard won't pass up any occasion to have cake.

"I shouldn't go." The suitcases are packed and by the front door. The neighbors have been alerted to the fact that there's going to be a strange man dropping in every now and then to check on the house. Well, not so strange -they've seen him here a lot; his truck in the driveway for days at a time. I've told them that it's an overseas posting. It's not a total lie.

"You have to go." He's stretched out across the couch now, the USAF sweatpants hanging off of his lanky frame. Can't keep an extra pound on the man. "You were chosen by the big boys to take over Atlantis. It's not really something you turn down." Tucking his hands behind his head he shrugs. "You can't turn it down."

"Sure I can." The words tumble out as I sit down next to him; pushing his feet away as I smooth out my skirt. "They can give it to Sheppard; he deserves it. Or maybe Rodney..." The words are out of my mouth before I think about what I'm saying.

Jack laughs, sitting up and putting his arms around me. "Right. Rodney McKay in charge of Atlantis. Lord help us all." He tickles my ear with his words. "And Sheppard... don't get me wrong, he's a good man. But he's an action boy; he'll die if you chain him to a desk."

"And I won't?" Turning sideways I smile, feeling the tears threatening to overwhelm me. "I'm too old to be in the field now? A desk jockey?"

I can tell by the terrified look on his face that he knows he's dancing in a minefield. This may be the man who can face down Baal and tweak the noses of Air Force Generals but now he's sweating like he's back in Hell. The planet, that is.

"Sure, you're good in the field." His hand lands on my hip, squeezing it through the dark blue fabric. "And elsewhere. I just think that it's a great opportunity and you have to take it."

"But there's so much work to be done here. Teal'c..."

"Teal'c has enough to keep him busy for the time being. And don't get me started on the paperwork for the last mission." His eyes roll upwards. "If I could trade jobs, I would. Believe me."

"But..."

"But nothing. Atlantis needs a firm hand and you're the best we have." I can hear the pain in his voice. "I mean, we'll still be able to talk. And we have vacation days."

"So you'll drop by to 'inspect' Atlantis, will you?" I can't help smiling. In my inner eye I can imagine the panic his arrival would cause. To say nothing of the trouble he'd get himself into, bad knees or not.

"If you want me to." There's a trace of neediness in his voice. And sadness. And regret.

"So I guess SG-1 is finally going to be disbanded." I look over at the suitcases. The car's going to be here soon to take me to the base. To the Gate. To Atlantis.

His smile is wistful and sad in his own way. "Well, after ten-plus years I think it deserves it." Reaching up he touches my face. "But say the word and I'll come through, guns a-blazing."

I can't help laughing at the image of my General, General Jack O'Neill bursting through the Gate into Atlantis roaring at the top of his lungs. Not that I haven't heard him roar; in fact he did so only an hour ago.

He frowns, exaggerated pain on his face. After so long we've got a connection; made only better by our recent activities. "Oh, right. Mock an old man and his bad knees." A loud sigh follows. "And now I'll have Teal'c wanting Star Wars marathons every weekend."

"I could still say no." The words run off my tongue again as if I'm still debating it in my mind. I know it'd be disobeying a direct order and the decision's never really been mine to make. "I could even retire. I've put in my time."

Slowly Jack gets to his feet, wincing as he stands up. It's not been a good morning for his knees. "You could. But you won't." Reaching down he pulls me to my feet. "You're too good an officer to turn down a challenge."

The tears are right there; blurring my vision. I could swear I see them in his eyes as well. "It's not fair."

"Carter, life isn't fair." Reaching up he wipes a stray tear away from the edge of one eye before it has a chance to run down my face. "Over all these years, after all that's happened to us, you haven't figured that out?"

I sniffle a reply, trying to hold them back. The driver's going to be here in a minute and I can't have a tear-stained shirt on.

"You'll be back soon enough after things calm down. And I'll be here, waiting for you." A mischievous grin appears on his weathered face. "Besides, I think getting you out of the lab is a good idea."

"You'll call? And write?" I sound like a kid heading off to boot camp for the first time. Dad must be laughing, wherever he is.

A knock comes at the door. Damn driver.

His touch is light on my face; his kiss hard and soft at the same time as he takes my breath away and makes me dizzy again. Wrapping his arms around me he buries his face in my hair - longer than regs would allow and now bundled up into a braid.

"I'm only a Jump away." He whispers. I can feel the dampness on my neck; matching the tears running down my face.

Another knock.

"Go, get out of here." Jack releases me and picks up the briefcase. "I'll get the kid to load the bags." Turning around he walks to the door, startling the poor driver who wasn't expecting to find the world-famous General O'Neill standing there in a grey t-shirt and sweatpants.

As the Lieutenant stumbles by with the luggage I look around the house one last time. I know I'll be back, but not soon enough. It's just like another mission I tell myself -but it's not the same.

The trunk slams shut. At least the youngster has the common sense to wait by the car. He's not that dumb.

Jack's standing in the doorway. I walk towards him, gripping the briefcase handle so tightly that I think my knuckles are going to pop. He's grinning. The same fat wild grin he had when he pinned those clusters on me and promoted me to Major.

"Go give them hell, Carter." He moves aside as I pause in the doorway, both of us trying to occupy the same space for the last time. "Go give them hell."

Then I'm in the car and he's waving at me through the window with the same smile on his face. As we turn the corner I slump back against the cushions, suddenly glad for the privacy of the back seat.

"Colonel Carter?" The young driver swallows loudly. "I'd... I'd like to say that it's a privilege to be driving you." He stares straight ahead, his back so ramrod straight that I'm afraid he's going to need a chiropractor by the time we get to the base. "I kinda grew up hearing about you and SG-1. It's great to finally meet you. And the General."

I can't help but smile. "The General's quite a character."

"Oh, yeah." He nods. "But you, well... you're the scientist of the outfit. A real inspiration to everyone."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." I look down at the briefcase on my lap; open it to check on my papers one more time.

There's an envelope in it. Sealed. Labeled "Do Not Open Until Atlantis" on it. In Jack's handwriting.

"Miles to go before I sleep." I whisper under my breath.

"'Mam?"

"Nothing." I look out the windows, trying to permanently engrave the past few minutes in my mind's eye. "Nothing at all."


End file.
